


P-537

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: SPOILERS: My own storiesJack talks. Immediately follows The Best of Both Worlds, whichshould be read first for this to make more sense. R for content... no sex or swearing, just disturbing imagery andviolence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

P-537

##  P-537

##### Written by Tanya   


  


General Hammond went back to his office after SG1 left the gate room with Dr. Fraiser. As anxious as he was to talk to them, he knew that medical treatment had to come first. All four members of the team looked tired and worn. The vivid bruise on the major's face and the laceration on Daniel Jackson's forehead hadn't escaped his notice, nor had O'Neill's obvious injuries. It was clear his people had been through an ordeal and according to Jack's remarks before being led away, it was going to be an interesting retelling. He also felt the urge to talk to his 2IC. Something he'd seen on Jack's face had worried him. He couldn't put his finger on the problem, but he knew something was amiss. 

George finally gave up all pretence of trying to work after a number of hours had passed. His curiosity got the better of him and he made his way down to the infirmary. 

Janet was just finishing taping the colonel's ribs as he arrived. The diagnosis of multiple fractures had just been confirmed, although the X-rays were performed more to follow procedure, than out of actual necessity. Janet had dealt with enough cracked and broken ribs in her time with the SGC to recognise them without technological aid. They did serve to show that no further damage had been caused though and that was news worth waiting for. 

Jack sat up on the bed, grumbling loudly as she put the final clips on the bandages. His bare chest sported a myriad of bruises and his throat was painful to look at. Thumb and fingerprints stood out clearly on the tender flesh. His right leg hung over the edge of the bed, giving him the appearance of a man ready to bolt. His left leg however, lay extended out in front of him, heavily encased in a walking brace. Janet had apparently allowed him to take his gown off and replace it with his pants, as the brace was fixed over those. 

Janet had also taken the time to X-ray the left shoulder and was pleased to see that the reduction had been done properly and the injured limb would heal correctly with the appropriate care. With the ribs dealt with, she proceeded to put his shoulder into an immobiliser. While she worked, she started to give her report to the watching general. 

"Well, sir, despite some fractures and bruises, the team is in pretty good shape all in all. Doctor Jackson sustained a mild concussion from a blow to the head, Major Carter has a contusion to her cheekbone and Teal'c is fine. The colonel here" she indicated her now silent patient, "suffered several cracked ribs, a shoulder dislocation, some pretty serious bruising to his larynx and some tendon and muscle damage to his hand, although that should heal without surgery. His knee is a candidate for reconstruction. I want to allow it a few days of rest to give the swelling some time to go down before I do anything. " 

Hammond looked around. "Where is the rest of SG1?" 

"Sorry, sir. They were all a little tired and hungry. Instead of making them wait for the rest of the colonel's test results, I sent them to the commissary." 

"Understood, Doctor." Hammond knew without being told that the rest of the team had left more out of respect for Jack's privacy than for anything else. The man before him clearly had something on his mind. 

SG1 was a rare commodity in that it functioned well as a team both on duty and off. They had become each others families and support systems. All four members had taken some pretty heavy hits since the inception of the Stargate program. Each had learned when to offer support and when to back off. It was time for the latter at this point and the team knew it. 

Jack's expression had soured during Janet's recitation, but he wasn't given time to speak before she resumed. "With the exception of Teal'c, they all carry small scalp wounds from an apparent mind probe, although their tests have all showed that no damaged resulted from that." 

"A mind probe, Doctor?" Hammond looked worried. 

Jack held up his hand for attention. "Um, hello. I'm still here. Yes, General," he turned his attention to his superior, "they used some sort of information download... thingy. It copied our memories and put them into a clone." He all but spat the word 'copied'. 

Hammond couldn't tell which thought horrified him more. The thought of the procedure, or knowing a clone was running around with the knowledge of his elite team in it's head. 

Jack could easily read the expressions flitting across the older man's face. "It's okay, sir. The clone is dead." 

Janet turned at the tone in the colonel's voice. It was clear that something had happened on this mission; something that was eating at the man in front of her. She also knew it wasn't his injuries making her feel that way. He'd suffered far worse and still managed to retain his sense of humour. This was different. She also knew how closed he was with his thoughts and feelings. Even if ordered, he would only provide the minimum information required. An incident from not long before came suddenly to mind. Memories of herself and SG1 in an isolation room, fighting an infection. The colonel was sick, in pain and drugged. He had suffered some sort of flashback and inadvertently revealed a bit of his history to the listening group. What they had heard wasn't much, nor was it pretty. She wondered if this past mission had stirred up some of those same memories. Sighing, she shook away the thoughts before turning to fill in his chart. 

Without waiting for permission, Jack hopped gingerly off the table, absorbing the landing on his good leg. He hobbled over to the closet where a spare set of clothes hung. Wincing at the aches and pains his movements caused, he lifted a shirt and jacket off the hook. He carried them both with him and approached the watching general. 

Hammond wondered if he should step in and order the colonel back to bed, but something held him back. The man in front of him seemed brittle, on the edge. Hammond had seen him like this before and decided to let the colonel off the hook. He recognised the signs of a man needing his space and felt it only fair to give him that. He shook his head slightly at Fraiser's questioning look. Much as she wanted to keep the man in for further observation, she also knew that now was not the time. His ribs would heal whether she was there to watch or not and with his knee in the shape it was in, she knew he wouldn't be off running any marathons. Providing he took the antibiotics she prescribed for his hand, he should be fine without her supervision. Plus, she told herself, there was nothing wrong with one friend dropping by for a visit with another friend. If one friend happened to carry a loaded medical bag, so be it. 

Hammond cleared his throat. "Colonel O'Neill." Jack stiffened, obviously expecting the worst. "I want you and your team in the briefing room at 0900 hours on Thursday morning. Until then, you are hereby granted leave." He smiled as he took in the man's reaction. 

Jack almost sagged in relief. He had been expecting an order to go back to bed, an order he would have had trouble complying with. Wanting to finish dressing so he could leave, he tried to manoeuvre his right arm into a sleeve, but couldn't manage the move. He turned to Janet. "Um..." 

If she hadn't been so worried, Janet would have laughed. The look of utter helplessness on Jack's face was priceless. She helped to guide the bandaged hand into the sleeve, then removed the immobiliser for long enough to carefully slide the injured left limb into the other one. She gently replaced the sling, making careful adjustments designed to make her feel better, rather than him. Finally she draped the jacket over top. She looked at his face carefully, trying to read the thoughts behind the closed expression. He didn't give her the chance. 

"Thanks, Janet. I'll see you in a couple of days." As he moved to leave the infirmary, he was stopped by the doctor's sharp call. 

"Wait a minute, Colonel. You forgot these." She approached him with a bottle of antibiotics, and tucked them into his jacket pocket. "Please take these. Those bite marks were nasty. We don't want to have to contend with an infection." 

Jack looked into her dark eyes. He smiled softly at her mothering gestures. "No, we wouldn't want that. Thanks, Janet." He turned and left the room, his gait distinctly lopsided. 

"You're welcome, Colonel," she whispered under her breath, as she watched him go. 

* * *

Jack attempted the climb to his private rooftop sanctuary with some difficulty. His bound arm and ribs hampered his movements and the right hand had a hard time finding purchase on the ladder through the bandages. The left knee couldn't bend, encased in the brace as it was. He almost gave up after the first painful rung, but as he looked from the clear night sky, to his living room window, he realised he had no choice. His mind begged for the release of the stars. He turned back to his daunting task. He reached up with his right arm as far as he could and hooked his elbow over the rung. He stepped up with his good leg, the left dangling free. He managed the climb with a hooking and hopping motion, finally reaching the top. He took some time regaining his breath once he arrived, his injured ribs limiting his breathing. 

After settling into the worn, comfortable chair he kept on his rooftop observatory, he left leg propped up on a small stool, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Despite his best efforts, flashes of the last few days came unbidden. The scenes from the battle on Tegreb saddened him. They were a good people and the Jaffa would have decimated them. Still, the scene was similar to those he had seen before, both on other worlds as well as his own. Good men lost to pointless causes. His head shook slowly as he tried to change the course of his thoughts. 

The lab on Yensid came to mind. Jack was still angry at the way he and his team had been used. Lab rats received better treatment and with better odds in his opinion. Daniel's frightened expression before being taken away floated by. Jack knew that if relations were established between the two worlds, he would make sure that he was not a part of the panel. He didn't think his feelings towards that planet would warm any time soon, despite their apologies. 

Jack made an effort to clear his mind. He needed rest and his injuries were making themselves known. His whole body throbbed from the bumps and bruises he had earned in the battle with Jamme. He debated about taking some of the painkillers Janet had pressed on him, but decided to forego them. He'd had enough of external influences affecting his life. Pain was honest, real and he could live with it. 

The thought of that fight spurred the images of the clone to spring to mind. Jamme was standing in the middle of the field, taunting Jack with words about Iraq, images of Hathor and thoughts of Charlie. Jack gave himself a mental shake. Reliving those moments wouldn't change the past. Hathor, Jamme and Charlie were all dead and gone while Iraq remained his own personal hell. Jack rose in an attempt to distract himself. He settled himself carefully on the stool sitting at the end of his telescope. The stars had always served to bring him comfort. He loved watching them, tracking the constellations and looking for those rare astronomical events that happened from time to time. 

Looking through the eyepiece, Jack got a fix on his favourite constellation, Gemini. It was Charlie's zodiacal sign and the sight of it always gave Jack some comfort. He didn't know whether it was the timelessness of the stars, or that it simply reminded him of his son. Either way, the sight always calmed him. He could feel the tensions in his body slip away, to be left behind for another time. 

Jack lost track of the time as he immersed himself in the heavens. When he finally pulled away from the telescope, dawn had started to rise. He blinked rapidly, clearing his strained eyes, unbelieving of the time. His body groaned in protest as he rose after so many hours of inactivity. The wounds had stiffened and the night chill had sunk deeply into his bones. It was with great effort that he succeeded in managing the downward climb off of the roof. 

Jack entered the house, deliberately avoiding the blinking light on his answering machine. He knew that if the general had called about anything of importance, a car would have been sent when he didn't respond. Other than that, he wasn't interested in talking to anyone. Jack slowly climbed the stairs that led to his room. He gathered some comfortable sweats, clean boxers and an old, worn sweatshirt. After removing his sling and leg brace, he attempted to wrap his bandaged hand. Janet had told him in no uncertain terms to keep the bandages dry. The left arm was still not feeling very co-operative, so Jack dispelled with protecting the hand. He elected to shower with the door slightly ajar, the hand trailing outside while he let the soothing warm water attempt to thaw his numbed body. By the time the hot water tank was drained, he felt better, although it took some time and a few select words to dress. By then he was completely worn out. He paused long enough to swallow one of Janet's pills with some water before lying down on his bed, an extra pillow supporting his sore arm. Sleep overtook him almost immediately. Despite his fatigue, his sleep proved far from restful. He dreamt vivid, terrifying dreams. Finally his exhausted mind shut down, allowing him some peace. 

As Jack woke, he looked about groggily. He had been more tired than he thought. Between the mission and the all nighter looking at stars, he had managed to sufficiently exhaust himself enough to sleep away the entire day. Dispensing with the braces and trappings Janet had sent, he rose and hopped painfully down the stairs. As he stood in his kitchen swallowing another antibiotic, he realised he was hungry. Knowing he wasn't up to cooking, Jack managed to dial the phone to order pizza. He put on some soft music and settled carefully into his favourite chair to await the delivery. 

A knock on his door startled him from the tranquil reverie he had slipped into. A glance at his watch told him the pizza must have arrived, although it's arrival seemed a little fast to him. He looked at the distance between his chair and the door and was surprised to notice it had grown substantially during the day. Knowing he had left the door unlocked, he yelled for the visitor to come in. The door swung open to reveal the three faces of his team members, along with a fourth. Janet stood in the midst of his friends. They appeared to have intercepted the delivery as they stood in the doorway, pizza in arms. Jack noticed they had made a liquor store run as well, as the large case of beer in Daniel's arms quickly caught his attention. He gestured for them to come in. 

"Hi, sir." Sam led the way, clearing a spot on the coffee table where Teal'c set the warm, fragrant boxes. Daniel moved to the kitchen, opening the fridge and depositing the case of beer he'd brought. Jack caught enough of a glimpse of the case to realise it was the good stuff, not some weird kind that Daniel seemed to love trying. Janet eyed his free arm and unencumbered knee sourly, but to her credit did not comment. 

Jack smiled at his friends. "Well, to what do I owe this honour?" He gratefully accepted the laden plate Teal'c placed on his legs. He tried to pick up the food in his right hand, the bandages preventing him from doing so. He then tried to test the mobility on his left side. Again, he was stymied. He would have thrown up his hands in disgust if he could have. "Oh, for crying out loud!" 

Sam was unable to hide her expression of amusement as she took in the colonel's dilemma. She took the plate and moved into the kitchen where she cut the slices up into bite sized pieces. She returned it with a fork, which she filled. 

The glare Jack threw her almost broke her up. Here was the SGC's most decorated soldier, war hero, practically living-legend and she was about to feed him his dinner. 

Daniel couldn't help the snicker that broke free and even Teal'c had a faint smile on his face. Janet's face remained impassive, while inwardly she chuckled. 

Sighing, Jack gave in to the inevitable and took the offered bite. The pizza tasted wonderful, but swallowing proved painful. His bruised throat did not appear to be quite up to the task of managing solids yet. He thanked Sam, but declined the next bite. Instead, he looked at Daniel. "So, I saw the beer you brought. When do I get to taste it?" 

Daniel looked over, a slight frown crossing his face. "Um, are you supposed to be drinking. Doesn't Janet have you on painkillers or something?" He chanced a quick glance in the doctor's direction. She kept her face pointedly away. 

The glare started to return to the colonel's face. "She gave me some, I didn't take them. I think a beer might work better." 

Daniel more than took the hint, as did the others. He moved to the kitchen where he grabbed drinks for everyone. He returned with four beers hanging between his fingers, along with a bottle of water. He passed the water to Teal'c, gave Sam and Janet their bottles, set his down and proceeded to open Jack's. As he held it out, he wondered how the man was going to manage. 

Jack managed just fine. He wrapped two bandaged fingers around the cold neck and viola. He gave a sigh of pleasure as the cold drink slid down his throat, easing the soreness. He decided maybe the liquid diet might not be so bad after all and wondered briefly if Daniel had brought more than just the one case. 

Thirty minutes later and the coffee table was strewn with abandoned pizza boxes and empty beer bottles. Sam, Teal'c and Daniel had all found comfortable spots and sat in various positions of comfort while they enjoyed the feeling of contentment associated with an evening of food and alcohol. Janet hung back a little. It wasn't a matter of feeling unwelcome, it was more the suspicion that something was about to happen and she wanted to be prepared. Something had happened to the team on that planet. She knew the facts, but not the implications of them. That was something she felt might be touched on tonight, if allowed. She knew that for this evening, her role would be one of observer. 

Jack was feeling a pleasant buzz from the beer he had drunk, although he didn't recall having drunk enough to hit him like it had. He shrugged the thought off, attributing it to fatigue. He was feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. Even his injuries seemed to have been lulled, as he wasn't hurting as much as before. 

Sam moved down off her chair to lie on her stomach on the carpet in front of the fire. As Jack looked at her he could see shadows under her eyes. They ran down far enough for the bruise on her cheek to mix on the one side. She lay there, absently tracing patterns on the carpet, her expression bothered. 

"Major." Sam didn't respond. "Major!" he called louder. 

This time Sam looked up. "Huh?" 

"Is there something on your mind, Carter?" 

Sam looked at him, then at the other men in the room who sat quietly observing. "No, sir... I mean yes, sir... I'm not sure." 

Jack wasn't used to seeing Carter so indecisive. He knew something was bothering her and he had a pretty strong suspicion of what it was. He sighed, knowing the events of the past week would have to be talked about some time, regardless of whether he wanted to or not. The "or not" reverberated loudly in his head. "Want to talk about it, Carter?" 

Sam looked at him, her blue eyes clouded. "It's Jamme, sir. He said something that bothered me." 

Jack could feel his body tense at hearing the name. Thinking about that _man_ tended to bring unwanted memories to the fore. While he knew it was coming, he didn't like to think about it. Still, he had invited the discussion. "What did he say, Major?" 

Sam's eyes flicked over to take in the other two. They were watching her carefully, concern and curiosity in their faces. She chewed her lip a moment, then plunged in. "He said that we keep secrets from each other." She looked directly at her commanding officer. "Especially you, sir." She held her breath as she waited for his reaction. 

Jack contemplated his response. Knowing what Jamme had said to him, he had a fair idea what the cryptic remark was intended to do. He wondered what exactly the clone had said to his team. "Of course I do. You know a lot of my past missions are classified." 

Sam looked carefully at him, studying his face. She knew he was speaking the truth, but not entirely. "Yes, sir." As she watched, a look crossed his face, a fleeting glimpse of something she had never seen from him before. She couldn't quite place it, but understood it meant something was going on that she didn't understand. 

Jack understood from her tone that she wasn't satisfied with his answer. "What do think he meant, Major?" 

Sam looked at him. She had hoped he would be more forthcoming, but realised that was a false hope. Again her eyes took in the others, assessing whether or not they would back her up. She noted the slight nod Daniel gave her, and knew they would be there. "I don't know what he meant. He said to ask you about P-537, sir." 

Jack flinched as though from a blow. He had expected something, but not that. He realised the eyes of the others were on him. Suddenly, the room felt like it was closing in on him. He tried to breath, but the claustrophobia grew worse. Images swamped his mind and he fought frantically to put them back into whatever dark corner they had sprung from. Finally he raised up out of his seat, and limped heavily from the room and out into the night. 

Sam looked sadly at the others. "What did I just do?" 

Daniel walked over to her and lent her a helping hand up. He gave her a reassuring squeeze about the shoulders. Teal'c walked over to join them. "Why do we not endeavour to find out?" 

* * *

The four found Jack up on his roof. They had given him a few minutes to collect himself before following. Daniel had also taken the time to gather the last of the unopened beer. He had a feeling it would be needed. 

They had assumed correctly that Jack had gone topside. While all wondered how he had made the climb so swiftly, none wanted to ask. There was clearly something more important going on. 

Jack was in his customary seat, his eyes on the heavens. Janet flashed back to the last time he had been there. There had been a wake going on beneath him; a final farewell to Daniel. It had been a rough time for all of them. It had also showed her a side of the colonel he seldom allowed to show. This time though, she knew no one had died, at least, no one they cared about. Her mind began to work overtime as she tried to guess the problem. 

Daniel moved near Jack's side. "Want to talk about it?" He kept his voice soft, undemanding. 

Jack snorted softly before lowering his head to look at Daniel. "What's there to talk about?" His head tilted upwards once again. 

"Whatever's bothering you?" Daniel tried to read the expression on his friend's face. Jack's dark eyes were hiding something, that much he knew, but he had no real idea what that something might be. 

Time passed silently. The watching friends wondered what was going on inside Jack's head as he sat there, stone still, studying the heavens. Finally he started to speak, but never dropped his eyes from the liquid night to look at them. "Have you ever wondered how it is that the stars look so beautiful; so peaceful from here. Then you go among them, and realise that's a false impression. " His voice trailed off. He tilted his head down and looked at them, his expression turning hard. "What good does talking about stuff do? It doesn't change the past. It can't take the memories away." The anger dropped, and sadness was left in its wake. 

Daniel moved closer, followed by the others. While none wanted to pressure the colonel into leaving again, they wanted him to know they were there. Still, they found his cryptic words confusing, each wondering what they meant. 

Silence fell over the group, each unsure of the next thing to say. Finally, Sam couldn't take it any more. She had started this, and she was going to finish it. She needed to know what secret Jack had that would be worth Jamme's mention of it. It was too specific a point to be inconsequential. Speaking so softly that her voice could barely be heard above the night breeze, she asked the question. "Sir, what does P-537 mean?" 

No one spoke. No one moved. Each waited, wondering. Jack sat there, staring into the dark, a range of emotions crossing his face. Finally his head bobbed, just the slightest movement, as though he had asked himself a question and was giving himself permission to answer it. 

Without looking at the team, he started to talk, softly, slowly. "Like you, Carter, I was sent to Desert Storm. I was one of the ones supplying you with the information for the bombing runs." Jack was familiar with Carter's service record and knew the role she played in that historical event. As her superior, he was privy to all of that information. Very few people had that luxury with him. Most of his work was considered highly classified. That suited him fine. The fewer that knew about those times, the better. 

Sam sat up straighter at that bit of information. She remembered the first time she had met the colonel. She was seated across from him in the briefing room, trying to stress how suitable she was to be a part of his team. While she had sat there, extolling how she had logged so much time in enemy air space, she had completely ignored the look that flashed across his face; the deliberately blank expression. She had attributed it then to his typically male attitude. Seeing it now, served to remind her how little she actually knew about her Commanding Officer and the life he had lived prior to the Stargate Program. 

Jack continued his narrative, unaware of her thoughts. His voice was distant, remembering. "My job was to run recon. Me and a small team of other guys would follow up on information the allies received. Sometimes it was accurate, sometimes not. It seems that one of our snitches decided to pull a double cross. He let us know about a munitions dump. Apparently he also let them know that we were coming. We ran the mission as planned, but got shot down. I was hit. The team thought I'd bought it and they left." For the first time, Jack looked at them. His expression was blank. He could have been in debriefing were it not for the slight tremor in his jaw. "They were wrong." Jack sighed deeply, his breath shaky. He was fighting a mental battle to keep quiet, but was losing. Still, this was relatively safe ground. It didn't tell them about _that place._

The team sat, watching him, knowing they were hearing something few people ever had. Already, they had an uncomfortable sense of where this was heading. The memory of his mention of "The Pit" came to the minds of all. 

He turned his head away from them, looking once again at the stars. He had spent a lot of time in Iraq, looking at those stars through the bars of his cell. They had brought the only beauty to an ugly, inhumane world. He would look at the constellations and think of his family. Those memories provided the only hope he had. 

He could still remember his surroundings. If he reached out, he could feel the coarse sandstone under his fingertips. If he tried, he would smell the stench of that place. The smells of unwashed bodies, human waste left out under an unforgiving sun, blood and death and most of all, the smell of despair. He had lived this life once, he didn't want to go there again. 

Jack tried to push the memories away, back into that corner of his mind he never visited. He didn't want to think about that time. It was over and done. He didn't want to remember and he certainly didn't want to share. This time though, the memories wouldn't go away. They crowded his mind, forcing themselves to the forefront, their will even greater than his own. 

The team sat silently, captivated by the barrage of emotions which flitted across Jack's face. They were shocked to see the fear that lingered there. No matter the situation, Jack was the one they all relied on. He never failed to reassure, to instil confidence, to push them to their limits. He was their rock and their rock never showed fear, until now. 

Jack turned to look at the faces of his friends. He scanned across the group, to rest his weary eyes on Sam. Her expression begged for honesty and he felt he owed her that. Speaking slowly and clearly he finally answered her question. "My name for four months was P-537..." He repeated himself softly. "Four long months. Not so long a time; but an eternity." 

>   
>  The sky morphed into the ceiling of his cell. His friends became his captors and the night sounds became the dying screams and whimperings of the men around him. Familiar pain suffused his broken body as Jack slid soundlessly into the past.
> 
> These images had become a part of his life and he had learned the hard way not to fight them any more. They had started some time after his release from the hospital. He had been terrified the first time it happened, and the next, and the next. After a time though, he learned to live with them. They no longer brought the same feelings of fear and panic, just a deep, pervading sadness. Sadness at the human condition; at the insecurities that drove sane men to commit insane acts designed to drag their victims into hell with them. 

"Jack?" 

The ceiling winked out and the sky cleared. A deep velvet blue, filled with tiny, brilliant diamonds of light once again filled Jack's senses. He looked over to see the beer held out to him by a younger man's hand. He reached for the proffered gift, grimacing as the motion tugged on his wounds. Silently thanking Daniel for once again opening the bottle, he took a long pull. He never noticed his shaking hand as he set the half empty bottle down to rest on his good knee. 

The team sat mesmerised by what they were seeing and found themselves looking at their friend with new eyes. While each was shocked at his words, all were grateful he had decided to share. Daniel finally understood the episode during their captivity on Yensid. He also wondered at how difficult it had been for Jack to know his memories had been copied, memories of a time Daniel knew he couldn't imagine living. 

Jack took another drink. The images came less frequently now and for that Jack was profoundly grateful. Since he seldom allowed or wanted himself to think about that time, the main trigger now for the memories were events such as the previous week. Feelings of powerlessness, such as their cell; and being strapped into a machine designed to invade his very thoughts. Even now, thinking about that turned his stomach. Jack reconsidered his earlier thoughts about returning to the planet. Now, he knew he would go if given the chance, if only to destroy that hated machine. 

As Jack looked over at his team, he took the time to study them. Sam looked tired, pale and more than a little haunted herself. Daniel looked older somehow. Teal'c looked the same as always, but Jack knew that meant little. He scarcely noticed Janet, who took pains to make herself unobtrusive. He gave himself a mental kick. Here he was feeling sorry for himself while his team had been through the same ordeal. He finished his beer in one drink and set the bottle on the floor beside him, never noticing when it fell over and rolled away. 

"How are you guys holding up?" 

Daniel spoke for the group. "We're fine, Jack. Nothing a good sleep won't cure." 

Jack looked at him, disbelief written clearly on his face. "Daniel... I know what they did must bother you. They invaded your mind, stole your memories and turned them against you, and you're telling me it didn't bother you?" Jack's eyebrows and voice raised as he spoke. "Well pardon me if I don't believe you." 

Daniel dipped his head slightly. "Okay. I wasn't happy with what they did, Jack. You're right. It _was_ an invasion, and they had no right, but..." 

Jack shifted angrily in his seat. "There are not buts... What they did was wrong." 

Daniel spoke softly. He wanted to clear the air, but he needed Jack to calm down and really hear him before that could happen. "Jack. What are you really angry about? Is it what Olim did, or about Jamme? Did something happen during your fight that you haven't told us?" 

The silence stretched out, while Jack sat taunt in his chair, his dark eyes searching for something in Daniel's face. Finally he slumped back, defeat in his features. "Yeah, something happened," his voice dull. 

Sam watched the scene unfolding, her emotions walking a tightrope. She held her breath as she waited for the next chapter to unfold. 

Jack pondered what to say, and why he was saying it. It wasn't like him to reveal so much about himself. He knew it wasn't from his injuries. That usually made him clam up even more, unless it was to gripe. It wasn't the beer either. Jack had drunk a good deal more on many occasions and never had it loosened his tongue. Besides, if he wanted to be totally honest with himself, he felt driven to talk about it. He couldn't have kept the words in if he wanted to. Part of him felt sick when he thought about that time, the other part yearned for release from the memories. 

"Jamme got into my memories and threw them back at me. Hathor, Charlie... Iraq. Especially Iraq. He told me he wanted to try out some of their more creative _techniques_ on you guys." Jack's eyes darkened as he remembered the taunts. He had no doubt that Jamme would not only have tried to hurt his friends, but that he would have enjoyed it. 

Teal'c struggled to hold his anger in check. As a warrior, he recognised the anger that lived within the colonel. It was one of the reasons he was such a good soldier. What he hadn't realised was the reason behind that emotion. Until that glimpse in the infirmary, neither he, nor the others had known about this time in the colonel's life. He had never disclosed his time in Iraq to them. From the little he had said, Teal'c had forged a pretty good idea of what transpired. Thinking about it made him angry. He had never understood the drive some men possessed that caused them to enjoy inflicting harm. As a warrior himself, he had committed many acts he knew to be despicable, but never had he enjoyed them. If he killed, it was cleanly. He never toyed with prisoners and he never tortured. To commit such an act was cowardly and heinous. To watch his friend struggle with those memories was truly a difficult task. 

Sam spoke softly. "But you beat him, sir. He can't hurt us, or anyone else again." 

Jack turned sad eyes on her. "But what if we hadn't stopped him? What then? That monster would have turned on the people of that planet. He would have hurt them and I taught him how to. He learned all that stuff from me. What does that make me?" 

Teal'c spoke aloud, for the first time in a while. "A victim, O'Neill. You cannot blame yourself for events beyond your control. You were not responsible in Iraq for what those men did to you, nor were you responsible for Jamme. He would have been created with or without us. Had they used the knowledge of another warrior, he might not have been defeated. The people of Regor might truly have suffered then. Instead, he is dead and the people of that world are safe." 

Daniel looked at his friend. It was clear that Jack was having a hard time believing Teal'c's words. "Teal'c's right, Jack. None of this was your fault. It wasn't any of our faults. We got caught up in the machinations of another culture and we survived. Not only that, but we did a lot of good. Besides, as you always tell us, there is no point in playing the 'What If' game. Jamme is gone and whatever he learned died with him." 

Sam listened, but realised more needed to be said. "Sir, listen to them. They're right. You weren't any more responsible than we were and you don't blame any of us, right?" 

Jack looked at her, clearly surprised by the question. "Of course I don't blame you. Any of you." 

Sam spoke softly. "Then why would you blame yourself? If anything, blame those bastards for what they did to you in Iraq. Blame, Nalan and Olim. Blame Jamme. Blame anybody but yourself. You didn't start any of this, sir, but you sure as hell ended it." 

Sam could see that her words were having an effect. Whether or not it was the right one, was still up for debate. 

Jack looked away, lost in thought. When he finally looked back, his expression had softened a little. "You're right. All of you." Jack cleared his throat, wincing slightly at the pain the action caused. His expression told them the next words were going to be difficult for him. 

"I spent a lot of time blaming myself for Iraq. There were so many times while I was there that I wanted to do something. To help out the guys who couldn't help themselves any more." A memory surged into Jack's brain, causing him to wince visibly. 

>   
>  Benjamin, aka P-887, was dragged between two guards. They paid no mind to the dirt being forced into open wounds, or the fact that the man was having a hard time breathing. They simply manoeuvred him inside the cell door and threw him with enough force to launch him halfway across the room where he landed heavily with a sickening thud. They laughed at the sight before closing the door with a resounding thud, the key making a harsh grating noise as it turned in the battered lock.
> 
> Jack painfully approached the unconscious man, turning him over gently to assess his injuries. He hissed in sympathy as he took in livid welts lining the man's legs. Once again Jack wished for the simple luxury of clean water. The wounds needed cleaning, but the water was so filthy it would have done more harm than good. It was a moot point anyway. The man in front of him was so far gone that infection was the least of his worries. 
> 
> This wasn't the first, nor would it be the last time Jack had lost a roommate to this place. Most of the men were already wounded when they arrived, as was he. The bullet wound to his shoulder throbbed with the memory. He was luckier than most. The bullet had self-cauterised the wound, preventing excessive blood loss and helping to prevent infection. Still, it didn't take bullet wounds for bacteria to infiltrate a body, nor was blood loss the only weakening element as he'd come to realise. 
> 
> As Jack took in the man's appearance, anger flooded through him. Benjamin couldn't have answered any questions. They hadn't taken him for that reason. They took him because they enjoyed brutality. The sounds of blows landing on dying bodies was music to their ears. Screams tantalised their sick minds. For that reason, Jack had vowed to never give them the satisfaction of hearing him. Through each successive interrogation, he held his tongue. It had become a sort of contest between them and him. A battle of wills both were determined to win. They endeavoured to use whatever methods came to mind to break him, while his stubbornness grew. His body and his mind suffered tremendously, but still he held on to his pride. 
> 
> Jack knew from previous experience that the beatings built up an appetite in his tormentors. After working on Benjamin, he knew they would dine. After that, it would be his turn. 
> 
> He moved away from the dying form in front of him. Walking painfully on legs covered in ulcerating sores, he moved to the furthest point from the door. Backing himself into the corner, he slid down the wall, the sandstone grating on the lash marks that covered his back, the tatters of his shirt doing little to protect him. He closed his eyes and paced his breathing. He had learned the techniques for self hypnosis early on in his career. Often times, men in his line of work were injured and removed from help. By preparing themselves mentally, they could withstand the injuries for longer, allowing themselves precious time to reach help. Jack had used this technique frequently during his time here. He found that with his mind detached, he could better withstand the damage being inflicted upon his body. 
> 
> Jack allowed his mind to drift. His thoughts moved to his family. He pictured himself on a picnic with Sara and Charlie. Their son played at the edge of the brightly chequered blanket, while his wife plied him with unending amounts of food. 
> 
> So engrossed was he, that he scarcely knew when the guards took him away, or brought him back. It wasn't until he came back to his body that he became fully aware of his condition. This time they appeared to have concentrated their efforts on his torso. Fresh burns and cuts, barely visible through the weeks of accumulated grime oozed painfully. Jack studied the bloody patterns indifferently. To his mind, each new patch of damage simply represented another day in this place, another lifetime away from his life, another missing piece to his soul. Strangely though he found his anger slipping away more every day, to be replaced with a kind of indifference. That frightened him more than the appearance of his tormentors. He often wondered what would be left of him if he ever made it home. 
> 
> As he looked across to the man still lying on the floor, he became aware of two very important facts. The first being that Benjamin no longer breathed, the second was his belief that he would end up the same way. Right now they kept him alive because he represented a challenge to them. It had become a sort of game; seeing how much he could take and still live. Once the game became boring, he knew they would end it without a qualm. 

Jack hissed in pain as he felt his injured shoulder shift. He came out of his reverie to find himself the object of scrutiny by four individuals. Janet was at his side, gently shaking him. 

"Colonel O'Neill?" 

Jack looked over at the tiny doctor before she could nudge him again. "What?" 

"I was asking if you were all right?" Janet, like the others, had watched as Jack's eye's grew distant. His body had tensed in memory and his expression hardened. Whatever he was remembering, it wasn't pleasant. Janet was torn between allowing the memories to run their course and interrupting them. Finally she decided to put a stop to them. Jack was still healing from his latest injuries and she wanted all his energies focused on recovery. 

Jack looked at her for a minute in confusion before finally coming back to full awareness. "I'm fine, Janet. Thanks." 

"Are you sure, sir? You seemed kind of out of it." Sam was also worried by what she had seen. 

"Was I?" The distraction in Jack's voice showed that he wasn't okay. In fact, he was feeling rather lost. Jack couldn't understand why the memories were coming back so strongly. Usually he had more control than was being shown tonight. He never talked about Iraq. Not to his then-wife, nor his superiors, or his friends. For some reason he didn't understand, the words wanted to come out tonight and it scared him. 

"Yes, sir. You were talking about helping the men there, then you kind of... zoned out." 

"Sorry about that, Major." Jack was uncomfortable with the knowledge that he had revealed so much. 

"Do not be sorry O'Neill. We are simply concerned. These men you speak of... Were any of them in 'the pit' you mentioned before?" 

Jack's eyes opened wide, in disbelief and pain. "When did I mention anything like that?" His voice was harsh and he was working hard at keeping it under control. That memory was one he knew he couldn't share. 

Teal'c realised his mistake in mentioning the incident. Some time back, the team had come into contact with a deadly plant spore. The colonel had been the hardest hit and had almost died. While in isolation, in complete darkness, he had undergone an episode. The spores had gone another step in the destruction of his blood cells and he had suffered great pain and trauma. While in that state and under the influence of painkillers, he had spoken a little of his experience in Iraq. During that time, he had mentioned 'the pit'. Knowing he would never willingly have spoken of it, the team had kept quiet; until now. 

"I believe it is my turn to offer apologies O'Neill. When you were sick with the spore infection, you spoke briefly of this place. I am sorry for bringing up and causing you further pain." 

The words fell on deaf ears as Jack returned to the horror of that place. As his friends watched, his eyes glazed over and his body began to tremble, the shivers poorly mimicking the reactions of the past. Janet, worried about his physical well-being, gently reached for his wrist and felt his pulse. Jack never noticed the action. Janet turned to the watching friends. 

While she found his pulse to be slightly fast, it remained strong. She nodded to the others, then moved back to join them, all the while keeping a clinical eye on him. Silently they observed their friend, studying him as his face and his body react to his memories. His face paled as they watched and his breathing grew more rapid. The tremors shaking his body grew stronger and he would flinch every so often. No one knew whether it was from the pain of his present injuries, or the remembered ones. 

>   
> Jack felt himself being dragged between two burly men. Their bodies stunk of sweat and old blood. He told himself that he would suggest that they wash; later, when he felt stronger. For now he allowed his body to fall limp. The men may as well do the work. After all, they were the reason he felt like he did.
> 
> His memories barely sustained him through this session. His images of Sara broke apart with each blow he took, only to reform in a slightly less perfect picture each time. As the beating continued, her face grew more and more distorted, until he finally dismissed the images all together. It was becoming too easy to picture her as the object of his captors wrath. Still, he managed to keep silent. He was beginning to wonder at the men's creativity though. The beating felt uninspired, routine almost. While he certainly did not want to undergo worse, it also heralded a dangerous time for him. Boredom in this place meant death. He knew he had a better chance surviving beatings than a shot to the heart. With that thought, he did one of the craziest things in his life. He broke free of the two men with the big fists and rushed the man sitting at the desk. The observer had made no secret that Jack was no longer there for questioning. He was beaten for their amusement now, for the continuation of the game. The man at the desk was always there, always looking fresh and impeccably dressed. He took great pains to sip slowly from the glass of water placed in front of him; water cold enough to bring beads of sweat to the outsides of the glass. 
> 
> To Jack, a man who had barely enough water each day to sustain life, this was a greater form of torture than any beating. His body would quiver at the sight of the life giving liquid. He would drool, wasting precious fluids as he watched the man raise the glass to moist lips. He would lick his own parched ones as the colourless nectar flowed down the man's throat, his Adam's apple bobbing in time. He would almost weep as the man cruelly poured the remainder of the contents onto the earthen floor only to watch as the sand greedily drank it up. 
> 
> Jack succeeded in reaching the desk as the man frantically pushed his chair away, trying to escape the filthy visage that reached for him. Jack received a club to the back of his head for his trouble. He fell heavily, not quite unconscious, but not awake enough to attempt to avoid the hail of blows that descended upon him. 
> 
> As he was dragged closer to the ominously dark patch on the ground in front of him, he questioned his actions. Before writing himself off as being totally crazy, he pictured the man's face at seeing his approach... The look of sheer horror written there made his escapade worthwhile. 
> 
> The two guards moved ever closer to the dark spot. Jack dared to raise his head enough to look around. He had never been to this part of the compound before. As he studied the approaching darkness he felt a knot of sheer terror grow in the pit of his stomach. Whatever was coming couldn't be good. 
> 
> Finally Jack reached the edge of the dark spot. It proved to be a very deep, dark hole from which there appeared to be no bottom and no escape. The terrified captive scrambled frantically backwards, attempting to put some distance between himself and the hole. Still, he made no noise. At first amused by his efforts, his tormentors laughed. Quickly however, their laughter turned to annoyance and the prisoner was dragged forward once again. 
> 
> Jack tried to brace himself for the fall, but was only partially successful. As he fell, he couldn't help but wonder how deep the hole really was. His flight seemed to be lasting forever. His thoughts quickly changed as he landed with a jarring impact. 

"No!" Jack jerked back to reality, his heart hammering in his ears as he struggled to breath. A sheen of sweat graced his brow and he could feel more trickling down the base of his spine. As he took a moment to compose himself, he realised a few things. His pulse and breathing were far too fast, his injuries were really hurting and his friends were staring at him like he'd suddenly grown two heads. 

Janet rushed to his side. Grabbing his wrist, she frowned at the information her fingertips were receiving. Leaning over him, she looked straight into his eyes. She found panic there. Pure, unadulterated panic. "Colonel O'Neill. Are you okay?" 

Jack tried to talk and calm his breathing at the same time. Both were proving difficult. "What the hell is going on here?" 

Daniel looked over, worry clearly written on his face. "What do you mean? What just happened to you, Jack?" 

The colonel debated about answering. To tell his friends what happened now, meant letting them know what happened then. The flip side to that was, something was going on that he didn't understand and it scared him. Memories he had hidden for so long were surging forth against his wishes. He seemed to have no control over them. He looked carefully at Daniel's blue eyes, searching for the truth. "I was back in Iraq. Back in the pit." His voice tapered off, his breathing ragged. He tore his gaze away from the sympathetic blue one. Right now he didn't want pity. He wanted to know what was happening that caused all this garbage to be dredged up. Finally he quieted, his breathing slowing. His friends watched, not sure what was happening, but knowing that if they pushed, Jack would clam up altogether. 

Softly a voice drifted in the night. The group had to strain to hear it, but no one was willing to break the spell and ask for more volume. "I was there once. That was enough. I don't want to go back." The ragged voice stopped. Silence reigned. Just when the spell appeared to break, the voice resumed, sounding piteously small and coming from far away, brown eyes looking pleadingly into brown. "Help me here, Janet. Whatever is making me go back, get rid of it. I can't go back there, and I won't." 

Janet slowly approached the hurting man. Gently she placed her hand on his arm. "We'll fix this. Together." 

Taking note of the shivers coursing through his body, she turned to the watching Jaffa. "Teal'c, please help me to get the colonel down into the house. I think he needs to get out of the cold." 

Teal'c moved silently, to stand beside his friend. Carefully, he offered a supporting arm, which was accepted. The journey down from the roof was slow and painful and the result was one exhausted colonel by the time they reached the comfort of his living room. Jack asked to be placed on his favourite chair. Despite having company, he was asleep within minutes. 

The rest of the team resumed their former positions in the room. Each took turns looking worriedly at their sleeping friend. Janet hovered close by, studying his appearance. His breathing had levelled off to the shallow breaths designed to protect his ribs. His colour was slightly off and the shadows under his eyes seemed to have deepened. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead, relieved to feel nothing amiss. 

Daniel spoke for the group. "Well... that was... strange. I mean, I'm glad that Jack was talking to us, but did anyone else find that just a little odd? 

Sam nodded. "He's been behaving a little differently since Yensid." 

Janet interjected. "Differently, how?" She was slightly annoyed that they had waited until now to mention anything. 

Sam shook her head slightly. "I can't really say. He seemed really bothered by that mind probe." 

Janet looked at her. "I can't say I blame him. It sounds rather nasty. How are the rest of you? Are any of you feeling differently?" 

Again Sam shook her head. "No. I'm fine. I wasn't happy with the procedure, but I stayed awake and didn't feel any differently afterwards." She shifted her gaze. "How about you, Daniel?" 

"I feel fine as well. I stayed awake too." Enlightenment crossed his face. "Maybe that's it." 

"What's it?" Janet was looking for anything that might explain the colonel's unusual behaviour. 

Daniel looked over at her, blue eyes looking huge behind his glasses. "Jack was taken first. Olim had the power set too high. Jack seized then passed out." 

Sam cut in. "That's right. He was unconscious for hours. When he finally woke up, he complained of a bad headache. Do you think that could account for his flashbacks?" 

Janet's lip twitched sideways. "I don't know." She looked at the sleeping man. "His tests came out fine. His MRI was clear; brain activity was normal. I'm not sure what we're seeing here. I do know that to get him to talk about anything is like pulling teeth without anaesthesia. This seems as disturbing to him as it does to us." 

"What do you suggest we do, Doctor Fraiser? Would you like to take him back to the infirmary at the SGC?" 

"I don't think so for now, Teal'c. He doesn't like it there. I think he'll be more comfortable in a familiar environment. We'll let him sleep and see how he feels when he wakes up. If he's still this way then, he'll have to go back so I can run some more tests. Frankly though, I'm more worried about his state of mind than his health." 

Sam looked at the silent man thoughtfully, her mind ticking over possibilities while she absently chewed on her lip. Insight came to her in a flash so profound it nearly knocked her over. "That's it!" 

Daniel started at her yell. "What?" He could tell from the look in her eye that she was on to something. 

She looked briefly over at the colonel, before turning back to her friend. "Remember when we were first taken to the lab and Olim was telling us about the procedure?" 

Daniel nodded, not completely happy with the reminder. 

Sam continued on excitedly. "Olim told the colonel that there was no point in trying to block his memories. He said that machine could tap into them regardless of what we did." She looked over at Janet now as she put forth her hypothesis. "Maybe that machine accessed some of the colonel's memories that he'd blocked off?" 

Janet looked thoughtful as she tried to assess the idea. "It is possible. Brain surgeries have been performed on patients that are left awake in order to gauge their reactions." 

Daniel cringed at the thought. 

"They call it brain mapping. Area's of the brain are stimulated to produce reactions. Some manifest physically, like causing a finger to twitch or a scent to be smelled. Maybe when this Olim character tapped into Jack's memory centre, he released all sorts of stored information." 

"You mean he opened the proverbial dam and now the floodgates won't close?" 

Janet smiled at his analogy. "Yeah, something like that. Sam's right. I think that machine broke through whatever self-imposed barrier the colonel put up. He doesn't seem to have any control over these memories and we know he wouldn't talk about any of this willingly. Something's triggering this." 

Teal'c entered the conversation. "How would you then explain the incident that occurred while we were in isolation? That happened prior to this probe." 

Janet thought for a moment. "The only thing I can think of, Teal'c, is that being so sick and under the influence of painkillers must have weakened his grip on his thoughts. Remember how he didn't remember talking about it in the morning?" 

Teal'c nodded. 

Daniel turned to Sam. "If your theory is correct and I think it might be, just what is all this going to do to Jack? This was obviously a really bad time for him and if he'd wanted to talk about it, he would have by now. Forcing him to relive a time he wants to forget can't be very good for him." Daniel sighed softly. He remembered wanting Jack to talk about his past and the memories that haunted him. Now it seemed the man had no choice but to do just that. 

Janet nodded her agreement. "I think we'll just have to stay with him while he goes through this." 

Sam looked at her. "What if he doesn't want us to? We can't force him to tell us." 

"No," Janet looked at him, "but consider the alternative. If he has to go through this, do we really want him to relive a painful portion of his life all by himself?" 

No one spoke. The answer to that question was obvious. 

* * *

Jack woke up several hours later. His body hurt and his mind felt muddled. He moved to stretch cramped limbs and instantly regretted the motion. He groaned loudly as pain raced through him. 

"Colonel? Are you all right?" Instantly Janet appeared in his field of vision, concern clearly stamped on her features. 

Jack was confused. "What are you doing here?" 

"We're all here, Colonel. We wanted to make sure you're okay." 

Jack looked around to take in the faces of his friends looking at him, with varying degrees of compassion and concern. He felt like some freak bug put out on display. Anger surged and sarcasm laced his voice, "Don't you people have lives? Go home. I'm fine." 

Daniel spoke for the group. "Well you didn't seem too fine a while ago, Jack. In fact, you looked like someone who could really use a friend." 

Jack gasped deeply in shock as Daniel's familiar face turned into another. 

>   
> "Help me!" David cried. He was placed on the metal bed frame next to Jack's.
> 
> Mattresses were unheard of in this place. Still, the men were grateful for the small comfort of a raised platform. Lying on the floor was a direct invitation for the scorpions to visit. They liked to make their homes in shoes, pant legs or pockets. Anywhere they could slip into and rest undisturbed. Jack had learned the hard way to remind himself to check each morning for the eight legged visitors. While the bite had not been fatal, it proved to be a definite hardship on an already weakened body. The pain in his hand had lasted for some time. 

Jack unknowingly began flexing and unflexing the fingers of his good hand. The team watched the visual recollection of the incident, worried, yet fascinated. 

>   
> Jack counted himself lucky that he had at least been spared any encounters with the dreaded sand vipers that periodically showed up. That was the unfortunate case with the man beside him. He was unlucky enough to have received a bite from Um grun, as the locals called the venomous snake. The snake was a particularly vicious one, its venom a haemorrhagic toxin.
> 
> Jack rushed to man's side. David was a young man, good looking and kind. His eyes sparkled with humour and intelligence, or, at least they had until he arrived at this place. His good looks had immediately drawn the jealous attentions of the guards and he had deteriorated rapidly. He had been subjected to terrible beatings and worse. Even without the snake bite, Jack knew he wouldn't have lasted much longer. He was filled with an impotent fury. The young man in front of him should have been home, courting some pretty young thing, discussing his future and dreaming of a family. Instead, he lay here, slowly succumbing to the deadly effects of a snake, in some God forsaken country where the only people who gave a damn were dying alongside him. The only difference was that David would go first. 
> 
> Knowing he had no access to the necessary antivenin, Jack did the best he could. He tore the bottom off the man's shirt and wrapped it around his leg, about a foot above the bite marks, tightening the tourniquet, just enough to slow the blood flow, not stop it. He leaned over and pressed his mouth against the wound. Carefully he sucked, creating enough pressure to draw the blood outwards, hopefully taking the poison with it. He stopped long enough to spit the disgusting mouthful to the side and drag in a fresh breath. He worked for awhile, drawing out as much as he could. Finally, Jack sat back on his heels, hand pressed against the wound. 
> 
> David turned towards Jack. "It's bad, isn't it?" 
> 
> Jack looked at the brown eyes that begged for the truth. "Yeah. I'm sorry. Maybe if we were near help, but out here..." 
> 
> David nodded in understanding. "It's okay. I knew I wasn't leaving here. It was just a matter of how." He looked at Jack, pain in his eyes. "Will you do something for me?" 
> 
> "Whatever I can." Jack meant it. He had seen too many people die alone in this place. If he could offer some comfort, he would. 
> 
> "Will... will you stay with me? I could use a friend right about now." David's eyes were watering. Jack didn't know whether the tears were from the physical pain, or the emotional. Either way, it didn't matter. 
> 
> Jack picked up the man's cold hand and held it between his own. They sat that way for hours. They sat while David's leg swelled; they sat while his insides started to bleed and they sat through the pain. Finally, Jack sat holding the hand of the dead man. 

"David." Jack repeated the name softly. He looked up into Daniel's face, unaware of the tear winding its way through the creases on his face. "I couldn't be his friend, Daniel. I couldn't help ease his pain and I couldn't stop him from dying." 

Daniel felt tears spring to his own eyes at the pain contained within his friend. He had no idea Jack had been through so much. "It will be okay, Jack." 

Jack turned angry. "How can this be okay? I lived this once. Why do I have to live this again?" He wanted to break something; he wanted something else to hurt as much as he did at that moment, but he couldn't. He was stuck in some damn chair, all but immobilised by his present injuries. 

Daniel moved closer and lowered himself on bent knees to face his friend. "You have to live this, because the machine is forcing you to." 

Jack looked at him, anger slowly dissipating and questions taking its place. "What machine?" He answered his own question. "You mean the one Olim used." Suddenly Jack felt overwhelmed by the urge to vomit. The nausea that had accompanied his memories of that machine flared violently, catching him off guard. 

Janet instantly understood the situation. She had been around the block enough to know that the reaction was a perfectly natural response to trauma. She rushed to the couch and grabbed the wastebasket that resided on the floor next to it. She scarcely made it back in time to assist the colonel as he purged the contents of a near empty stomach. Sam moved to get a damp cloth from the kitchen. She handed it to Janet then moved discretely away, knowing the colonel would be uncomfortable with the knowledge of witnesses. 

Daniel had moved to get out of Janet's way and now he and Teal'c milled about uncomfortably. Neither wanted to leave, worried as they were about their friend, but neither wanted to add to his discomfort. 

Janet held the cloth to Jack's brow and sat alongside until the stomach spasms passed. She was worried about his ribs and how they had reacted to the violent movement. 

After the nausea passed, Jack slowly regained his composure. He was angry and embarrassed about what had happened and seeing Janet's kind face watching him was more than he could stand. He pushed her hand away and levelled his dirtiest look at her. "Just leave me alone. I can handle this." 

Janet delivered her own matching glare. As much as she ached for what the man in front of her was going through, she wasn't prepared to take his guff. "You can't handle this. Look what's happening here. You need help whether you like it or not. Now I was trying to help you and so was Daniel. I suggest you listen to him." 

Temporarily silenced by the show of temper from the mild mannered doctor, Jack sunk back into his chair and looked over at the nervous archaeologist. 

Daniel cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. He looked quickly over at the others to see how they were doing, before turning back to Jack. "It seems that when the machine tapped into your memories, it broke through some of the mental barriers you put up in your head. You didn't want to remember Iraq, so you filed that time away where it wouldn't hurt you." 

Jack looked at him, clearly finding the whole idea laughable. 

Before he could comment, Janet stepped forward. "Colonel, it's something that happens when trauma is suffered. The mind is incredibly forgiving of pain. It protects the person. While you could remember that time if you wanted to, your subconscious hides the worst memories. They are stored away, kept out of harms way. The only explanation for what's happening here is that the machine seems to have tapped into that time and let those memories loose." 

Jack looked at her, obviously extremely uncomfortable with the whole discussion. "So tell me how to put them back?" 

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't think you can. I think you're going to have to go through them and deal with them as they come." Janet smiled sadly at the expression on the colonel's face. She had never seen him look so defeated, so lost. She moved to his side, crouching alongside Daniel. She touched his uninjured hand and looked into his fathomless eyes. "We're here to help you, Colonel. We'll go through this with you, if you'll let us." 

Jack looked over her shoulder to take in the sight of Carter and Teal'c standing together, their combined strength and wisdom a formidable force. He looked back to see Daniel, still at his side, friendship in his face. Finally he turned back to Janet, a tiny tower of strength in her own right. He sighed heavily, suddenly feeling incredibly old. "Tell me what to do." 

* * *

Janet checked her patient one more time, still unsure if this was the right thing to do. While she didn't believe that Jack was in any danger physically, she wasn't so sure about the emotional ramifications of reliving such a dark time. When he had previously been sick and reliving some of his time in 'the pit', his physical condition had deteriorated. His heart had raced, his respiration's increased dramatically and his blood pressure had risen. While he was no longer sick, he was still injured and she was worried. Knowing how he felt about revealing anything, she had elected to give him a mild sedative. Not enough to put him to sleep, but enough to relax him and take the edge off his emotions. She had her medical bag opened and at the ready, in case it was needed. 

One of the things about being a doctor with such an unusual program as the Stargate was the fact that she saw a huge diversity of problems. As such, she had learned to be prepared, carrying more than the standard contents in her kit. She felt somewhat confident that she would be able to deal with anything that should come up. Still, she had taken a seat close to the patient, that she might be near if needed. 

Jack was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace. The dancing flames in front of him were soothing and inviting. His injured leg was propped up on an ottoman, and cushions sat at his side, providing support to his injured shoulder and ribs. 

The team had sought to anticipate all potential needs. A jug of ice water sat on the side table along with a glass. Remembering his shivers from the night before, a folded blanket sat waiting. A box of tissue sat discretely nearby. 

Jack was staring into the fire, lulled by the crackles and pops of wood giving way to flame. The sedative had already begun to take effect and he was feeling somewhat calm, for the first time in a while. That quickly changed to apprehension as the team approached. They took seats nearby, close enough to provide comfort, far enough to give him some much needed space. 

Jack eyed them warily, knowing what was to come and dreading it. He looked at his friends. He trusted them with his life on a daily basis and every one of them had in fact saved it at some point, but the thought of sharing his memories revolted him. Still, he knew as well as they did that this had to be done. It was yet another thing he had to thank the people of Yensid for. 

Janet looked at the man in front of her. He looked as though he was preparing for battle. It saddened her to know that in his mind, he was. "Are you ready, Colonel?" 

"No." the voice was flat, toneless. Jack refused to look at her; at anyone. He stared into the fire as though his life depended on it. "Let's get this over with. What do you want me to do?" 

Janet looked to the others for support. She received a variety of nods and encouraging smiles. Steeling herself, she plunged in. "Why don't you start at the beginning, Colonel." 

Jack took as deep a breath as he was able. He let it out through pursed lips, like a weigh lifter about to tackle a heavy load. He though about Janet's words and started. 

"We flew in choppers. They dropped us off about 3 miles from the munitions dump so we wouldn't be heard. We walked in from there. About a half mile from the target, we heard shots. Turns out it was a set-up. They had us. My CO was able to launch a grenade and I laid down cover fire. It looked like we were going to make it out when I took a stray shot. It caught me in the shoulder and I went down. My team thought I'd bought it and they bugged out. Turns out they all made it home." 

Janet knew that scar. She'd seen it many times during her examinations. It was old, poorly healed and faded with time; and could only be seen under close examination. Realising her thoughts were drifting, she returned her attention to the story. 

"The snipers grabbed me after the others got away. They walked me back to their base..." The words broke off for a moment as the memory surged forth. "I remember how hot the desert was, how the sand got into everything and how thirsty I was." Jack paused. He tried to pour a glass of water, but couldn't manage the task. Teal'c moved forward and helped before returning to his spot. Jack cast him a quick glance. "Thanks." Teal'c inclined his head graciously. Jack turned back to the fire. Somehow, talking to the flames made things a little easier. 

"They took me to see the camp Commander. I remember thinking how out of place he looked. There he was, in the middle of nowhere, in this nice, pressed suit, looking cool as a cucumber. I was sweaty, dirty and bloody. It was almost laughable. They sat me down and started asking questions. Standard procedure. You know the drill. Who I worked for, who my superiors were, what my mission was, yada yada yada. I gave the standard answers. Name, rank and serial number, just like we were taught." Jack gave a soft snort of laughter as he turned to look at his friends. "It's kind of ironic. I don't think the ones that made up that rule ever did time in an enemy prison." Once again he turned away. 

Daniel sat, listening intently. At the last comment, he swallowed heavily, fearing what would come next. 

>   
> Jack sat there, being held in the chair, feeling the searing pain from his shoulder and wondering whether he still carried a bullet inside. The man in front of him looked on with condescension. He stared pointedly at Jack's soiled fatigues before looking at his own lapel and brushing away an invisible piece of lint. Slowly he looked up, establishing eye contact with the young American.
> 
> "You might as well tell me what you know. We were already informed of your arrival. Surely you understand that the same man who informed us of your mission will also tell us your identity." 
> 
> Jack sat up straight and looked the man in the eyes. "Then you don't need me to tell you, do you?" He paid for that with a barrage of blows, designed for maximum pain, with minimum effort. When the goons had their fill, they backed away. Their restraining grip was no longer necessary to keep him in his seat. 
> 
> The man behind the desk watched the sight impassively. He had seen this many times before. It was becoming routine. Still, as he watched the man struggle to right himself, he was taken aback by the pride shown in the bearing and the fire in the eyes. This one, he told himself, bore watching. 

A particularly loud pop from the fire jolted Jack back to the present, the fire reflecting in his eyes. Not wanting to see the expressions on the faces of the others, he continued without shifting his gaze. "They took me to my cell. It wasn't much. Four walls, small barred window, solid door, steel bed frame, bucket in the corner. A nice cosy room for two. My roommate was already there." Jack went quiet for a moment, visualising that scene. He swallowed heavily at the image. When he spoke again, he was barely able to breathe the words out. "Apparently he had died sometime the night before and they hadn't got around to moving him yet." Jack decided to ignore the sharply indrawn breath he heard. "They left me alone there for a while. No one came for a couple of days." 

>   
> Jack sat against the far wall of his cell. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and the corpse he called roommate. The body had started to bloat, the smell of decay permeating the room. Jack wondered, not for the first time, if his nose would ever be free of the stench. Flies had moved in, feasting and reproducing with abandon.
> 
> Jack had tried to find out on that first day who the man was. He looked for the tell-tale dog tags all military persons wore, but they were conspicuously absent. Jack wondered briefly if they had been removed before or after death. His hand moved unconsciously to his own decoration. They felt soothing, comforting to his touch. They served to remind him of who and what he was and Jack knew that as long as he wore them, he would survive. 

"They left him there for three days before taking him out. They had us able bodied prisoners carry him out into the desert. We left him there... fodder they called him..." Jack fell silent, remembering how sick he felt, leaving the unknown man out there as food for the desert residents. How a living, breathing human could be so callously killed and left as carrion still baffled him. 

Sam couldn't help the feelings of rage and disgust that flowed through her. She had been in Desert Storm, yet had known nothing of the personal battles being fought behind the lines. 

Janet edged her chair slightly closer. She hadn't fully known what to expect, yet this exceeded anything she might have imagined. She felt an almost overwhelming urge to take Jack's hand in her own, to reassure herself tangibly that he was here with them and not back in that Hell-hole. 

Suddenly Jack tried to move, to get out of the chair and out of the house. He couldn't take it any more. This was a time best forgotten and his fight or flight instinct kicked in. Since he couldn't fight, he tried to get away. He struggled against his injuries, trying to get free. Teal'c and Daniel were quickly on him, trying to push him back into his chair while trying to protect him from further harm. 

"Let me out. It's my house and I can leave if I want to." Jack tried to fight against the hold of his friends, their very actions causing him more panic; his overwhelmed mind having a hard time separating the past from the present. 

"You must calm down O'Neill. We do not wish to cause you harm." Teal'c was worried for his friend. He was afraid of hurting him, but at the same time he knew the colonel had to be stopped. 

"Dammit Jack, let us help you!" Daniel was equally worried but he was also getting angry. "You always want to help us, so why won't you let us help you?" 

"I don't need your help! I don't need anyone! What I need is for all of you to go away and leave me alone. This is my life. Let me live it the way I want to." Jack continued to struggle against the massive Jaffa. 

"And how is that, Jack? By opening another bottle and burying this stuff the way you bury all the other hard stuff in your life." Daniel's voice was raising, as was his ire. "I know you, Jack. I know how you think. You don't like what's happening here so you just sweep it under the rug. Well that won't work. It never works. You of all people should understand that by now. You have to deal with this whether you like it or not." 

"Well I _don't_ want to. I've been handling it just fine and I'll continue to handle it, by myself." 

Daniel was furious now. "That's just it Jack. You haven't handled it. That's why this is happening now. You locked all this stuff away without ever dealing with it and now it's come back. This time I don't think you have a choice. Now we can leave, or we can stay. That won't change the fact that you're stuck with this." Daniel's anger dissolved instantly when he took in the stricken look on his friend's face. He didn't know how Jack would respond, but he knew that he didn't have the heart to say anything more. 

With his friend's words finally penetrating his brain, Jack finally gave up the futile struggle. He fell back against his chair, panting, completely spent. He thoughts were in chaos. On one hand, he so wanted to be out of there, on the other, he knew his friends were right. He no longer had any choice but to talk about this or it most certainly would destroy him and maybe take his friends with it. 

Feeling the fight leave their friend, Daniel and Teal'c backed away. Silence fell over the room as everyone tried to calm down. Daniel settled into his chair, wondering what would happen next. 

The silence stretched out. Teal'c rose to add another log to the fire, but no other movement occurred. Each observer waited, wondering. Jack eyes gave no hint of what was going on inside his mind. Finally, enough time passed that it seemed as though they had lost. Jack had heard their offer of help and rejected it. 

Jack thought about Daniel's words. He knew his friend was right, and he admired the guts it must have taken for the man to talk to him like that. He weighed out not saying anything, but realised that Daniel was right. They were all right. He didn't have a choice. Giving into the inevitable, Jack began the difficult chore of relating the events of the past; times so clearly etched in his mind that he might as well still be living them. His voice was curiously detached as he finally spoke; almost analytical, as though he was attempting to distance himself. "They finally brought me some water. It's funny how I wasn't hungry anymore, but I was so thirsty. They could have pissed in the water and I would have drunk it I was so thirsty." Jack snorted softly to himself. "Who knows, they probably did." 

Janet knew how much Jack would have been suffering at that point. The effects of starvation and dehydration combined would have been painful in the extreme. She shuddered inwardly to think of it. 

"I got my first real introduction to the other guys that day. After we took the body away, we were led into the compound. Apparently they thought that if we wouldn't talk about ourselves, we might talk about the other guys. They'd pick someone out to use as an example. Pretty standard stuff really. Some of the guards used their fists, a couple had whips and one carried a club. They'd take turns. Seems they all enjoyed working for their pay. The new kid always got to be the example." Jack didn't need to clarify. They all knew who the new kid was. 

>   
>  Jack lay there in the dirt, curled up in an effort to protect himself from hail of blows raining down upon his body. The sounds of thuds and the crack of whips forever burned themselves in his brain, along with the jeers coming from both captives and captors. The prisoners, free from abuse for a time, expressed their relief in goading the criminals on. After all, watching someone being beaten was better than feeling the blows themselves. After a time, the sounds changed, the thuds sounding wet as they came into contact with the crimson that flowed from his skin. The guards finally ceased their activities, their arms tiring and their efforts causing hunger. Jack was carried to his room and dumped unceremoniously onto the floor of his cell, his body left to heal or die.  
> 

Daniel flinched in sympathy, feeling age old blows landing on his own body. He couldn't imagine living that life. It was hard enough just hearing about it. He remembered back to his own trip to Hell. They had gone to rescue Sam's Dad and ended up in a less than desirable place. It occurred to Daniel that Jack had been hurt there as well. The man seemed to attract trouble. He flashed back to standing there alone, facing Apophis and his henchman. The memories of facing that mass of muscle and knowing it was all too willing to hurt him was frightening enough. He couldn't image enduring months of that and worse, all the while knowing that rescue was a distant hope. 

Janet watched the colonel closely, noting how the shivers had returned and the pallor of his skin. She took hold of the blanket and placed it gently over him. She paused to check his pulse and was rewarded with a ghost of a smile as he took notice of her. While his pulse had returned to the slightly faster rate she'd come to associate with his flashbacks, she wasn't unduly concerned. She brought the glass of water close to his lips and looked on as he took a grateful sip. She placed one cool hand gently on his cheek as the other hand replaced the glass on the table. She frowned slightly as she noted the warmth of his skin. It wasn't overt, but enough for her to wonder if it was a result of his proximity to the fire, or the beginnings of a fever, possibly due to infection. As she looked at Jack though, she realised she wouldn't be getting her answers any time soon. He was slowly losing his patience with her ministrations. She consoled herself with the thought of rechecking him soon. Quietly she returned to her seat, keeping a close eye on him. 

The team wondered what was happening when Jack declined to speak again. The silence stretched from seconds into long moments and still no information was forthcoming. 

Teal'c finally understood the problem. Jack was wading through months of memories, unable to latch onto any one. Knowing his friend was deliberately avoiding one particular set and knowing it needed to be dealt with, Teal'c offered a prompt. "You spoke once of 'the pit' O'Neill." He winced inwardly, knowing he had deliberately caused his friend more pain. 

Jack shook his head violently, the movement jarring his injuries. "No! I don't want to talk about that." Even as he spoke, images crowded his mind and he tried vainly to push them back. 

"Jack, I know you don't want to talk about that place, but these memories aren't going to give you a choice. They're going to keep eating at you, until something gives. Trust us with this. We want to help." Daniel looked at his friend in concern. He didn't know what to do besides offering his support and hoping it was enough. 

Sam felt the same. While she had misgivings about making the colonel relive something so obviously painful to him, she shared the same concerns as Daniel; that the memories were going to be relived, whether her friend wanted to or not. "Colonel, we're here for you. Trust us. We won't let anything happen to you. You're safe with us." Sam could only hope this proved to be true. 

Jack looked at her. She caught her breath at the sight of the ravaged face and the tearing eyes. She had never seen the colonel this way before and wished that at this moment she were sitting in the cockpit of her bomber, ready to drop a load on the bastards that had done this to her friend. Never before had she felt such rage and she wondered how Jack had managed to keep all of this to himself for so many years. 

Jack continued to look at her. "It's too late, Major. It's already happened. We can't undo the past." Sam's heart broke at the words and she struggled to keep her own eyes dry. 

Jack spared her any more discomfort by looking away, back to the fire that was steadily growing lower, it's flames hungry for more. 

As he stared into the flames, Jack realised his friends were right. These memories had found a secure home in his mind and they weren't ready to give it up. He knew instinctively that talking through them was the only way to regain control of them, but it was so hard. The memories of 'the pit' were the hardest of all. He had been reduced to a mockery of a human and that was a difficult thing to live with. It had taken him months after his return home to feel close to normal again. He would catch sight of himself in a mirror, or window and see not the man of the present, but the wasted wreck he had been. He wrested with himself for long moments, only to give into the inevitable. Jack took a deep breath and jumped headlong into the past. 

>   
> The painful landing at the bottom of the pit was barely felt amongst the other injuries. Other than the sickening wrench he felt in his knee, Jack had landed relatively unscathed, excepting of course the newly broken ankle and reopened wounds. The mind had gone numb in an attempt to protect itself and it's vessel, thus it barely registered the new pains. Jack stared unseeingly at the space that had become his new home. The scant light trickling down from overhead made little headway against the gloom. Still, he was able to make out his surroundings. The pit proved to be a simple affair. It was simply a deep, straight shaft plunging into the bowels of the Earth. There was nothing but him, the faint sight of sky and dirt.
> 
> Thankfully, it had rained earlier in the day. Such an event was received gratefully by all inhabitants of the desert, prisoners especially. Jack cupped his hands and drank greedily of the muddy water that flooded his new home. He gave little thought to the dirt and disease that might be contained in the life-giving elixir. Thus far, he had managed to escape death due to beatings, snakes and insects. The sleeping sickness due to the ever-present tsetse fly that had claimed others had avoided him, as had the malaria, ravenous mosquitoes spread. If he were to die from something now, it would only be the odds finally evening out and he could do little about that. 
> 
> Days passed as Jack continued to live in that hole. His knee had blown up out of all proportion, as had his ankle. His opened wounds weeped untended and ignored. Pain was his constant companion. The water had quickly dried up, both from the ground and the clothes he had soaked in an effort to store it. He scanned the tantalising bit of sky daily, hoping for some sign of more. 
> 
> His only contact with other humans came when his captors decided to visit. They had developed the habit of throwing bits of rotted food down on him. The first time, Jack had tried to nibble on one of the pieces in an effort to restore some strength to his body. The results had proven unpleasant in the extreme, forcing Jack to live in his own filth. Since then, he had learned to dig small niches in the walls of his prison where he attempted to bury the evidence. 
> 
> Bugs that tunnelled their way into his refuge became his repast, their protein rich bodies providing his only nutrition. 
> 
> He grew weak and delirious, the lack of food and water taking their toll. Infection ran rampant in his many wounds and he began the slow process of dying. Images from his life became his companions, the occasional glimpses of his wife and son providing him the small consolation that he would not die alone. 

No one spoke for a time after Jack's words ground to a halt. Each found themselves fighting the emotions the images brought and more than one person found themselves wiping away tears that escaped from overflowing eyes. 

Janet was the first to rouse herself. She looked to the others, seeing in their faces the same horror she felt, their eyes reflecting the same pain. Shaking herself mentally and wiping away her own tears, she looked to the colonel. He appeared slightly flushed and she could tell at a touch that he had indeed developed a fever. His eyes were slightly glassy and his pulse had quickened significantly. Worried about the rapid onset of the symptoms, she began checking his injuries. It took no time to discover that the hand wounds were the source of the problem. The infection she worried about had indeed set in. 

As Teal'c looked on at his friend, he became aware of a slight pain in his hands. He looked down on them, surprised to see blood coming from wounds he didn't remember receiving. As he lifted his hands to his face to study them, he realised that he had inflicted the cuts on himself. His fingernails bore the evidence. He had apparently clenched his hands so tightly while listening to Jack that he had inadvertently cut himself. Throughout Jack's recitation he had fought down his urge for revenge. The thought of men putting his friend through this ordeal sickened him. His symbiote squirmed restlessly as though in agreement. Teal'c only wished that some good would eventually come from this. As he watched the small group of Tau'ri once again come to the assistance of a fallen friend, he realised that perhaps something had. Looking back to his hands, he noticed with some small satisfaction that the wounds had already begun to heal. Seeing Janet tending to Jack, he could only wonder if the same held true for his friend. 

Sam fought the urge to leave the room, to find the sanctity of another place. She felt nauseous, sickened by the events of a time long ago. Jack's words had hit her hard. Knowing now what he had been through only served to reinforce in her head that here was a man of considerable character, a man forged by extreme circumstance beyond his control. 

Jack finally roused himself. He had felt himself dying and it was an effort to pull out of that. He found himself savouring the images his mind was showing him. Charlie's face was something he missed so much and he found himself getting lost in his little boy's smile. It wasn't until Janet touched his hand that he felt himself being dragged into the present. Part of him wanted to stay behind with his son, but part knew he had to go on. There were too many fights left to fight, too many people who still needed him to hold their hands and too many waiting to hold his. 

He blinked several times, trying to see through the fuzzy layer that obscured his vision. "Janet?" 

"Yes Colonel, I'm here." 

Jack realised he felt hot and shaky and tired beyond measure. He didn't remember feeling that way not so long ago and wondered vaguely what might have changed. 

Janet read his thoughts. "I told you human bites were dirty. Those antibiotics I gave mustn't have been strong enough. Your hand is infected. It's causing a bit of a temperature. I'm going to take you back to the base with me. Some intravenous antibiotics and you'll be as good as new." 

Jack grabbed her hand with his own injured one. "No Janet. I don't want to go to any hospital today. Please..." He quickly flashed back to one of the many days he'd spent in hospital after being rescued. He tried not to see the expressions on the rescue team's face after they lifted him from the pit. They all bore similar looks ranging from pity, to revulsion. He knew why they looked that way. He felt similar emotions himself, his degradation more painful that his multitude of injuries. He hardened himself against the looks and found himself spending many hours in the next few months trying to erase them from his mind. 

Janet knew he belonged in her infirmary, but looking into his eyes she knew she couldn't do that to him. Not today. Everything he had shared was too fresh, too painful. She couldn't put him through more. 

She left his side and approached the rest of the team. "The colonel has developed an infection from his injured hand. He needs more treatment than I can provide from just the supplies I brought. I'm going to phone the general and see if he can't have some things send down here. Jack shouldn't be made to go to the infirmary tonight. Not after all he's been through. Teal'c, I want you to take him to his room. Daniel, please help see that Jack is made comfortable." She turned to Sam. "Maybe you could go to the kitchen and get a bowl of cold water and a clean cloth. If you could try and lower his temperature it would help." Sam nodded and moved do as Janet bid. 

Janet carried the phone out of the room to talk to the general in private as Teal'c moved to Jack's side. "O'Neill. I wish to escort you to your room. Would allow me to do so?" 

Jack looked at him, too tired to care anymore. Barely perceptively he nodded, giving in to the final humiliation. Teal'c bent down and gently lifted the man, blanket and all. 

Daniel led the way up to the master bedroom. He pulled back the sheets then moved aside to make room for Teal'c. Jack was placed in the bed, Teal'c taking great care not to jar any on his injuries. 

Jack closed his eyes and fell asleep, his shallow breathing his only movement. 

Quietly Daniel left the room with Teal'c remaining to stand watch. He passed Sam on her way to the room as he sought out Janet. He found her near the front door, watching for the car Hammond had promised to send. She stood, lost in thought, only to jump as Daniel placed his hand on her shoulder. 

"Oh, Daniel. I didn't hear you." 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He looked at her guiltily. 

"It's okay. I was just thinking." She turned to look at the tired young man standing in front of her. "Did Jack ever tell you any of that before?" He shook his head. "Me neither. How could he live with all of that? How could he go home and pretend everything was all right?" 

Daniel studied the sad face in front of him before pulling her into a gentle hug. "I honestly don't know. I guess he just did." 

Janet nodded against his chest. "I guess so." She remained in Daniel's arms for several moments, finally feeling safe for the first time that night. Jack's memories had proven to be devastating for all of them. The two friends finally pulled apart as the car approached the house. 

Supplies in hand, Janet approached the bedroom. Sam sat by the bed, wiping the colonel's heated brow. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the bed. They only served to accentuate the paleness of the occupant's skin, despite the flush of fever. Sam vacated her spot to Janet, who wasted no time in starting an IV, the saline bag piggybacked with antibiotics. Despite the fact that he slept, she elected to administer another sedative. Knowing how worn she felt from listening to the colonel's words, she could only guess at what it had taken out of him. She needed to see him sleep, as much as he needed the healing rest. 

Janet quietly checked Jack's vitals. Finally satisfied, she moved away from the bed and out the door, followed closely by the others. 

Daniel stood, arms crossed against his chest, leaning lightly against the wall. "So, is he going to be okay?" 

"Well, physically he should be fine. Mentally, I'm not so sure." Janet looked back at the room, just catching a glimpse of the bed through the partially closed door. She looked back at her friends. "I found it hard just listening to all that. I can't imagine living it." 

Teal'c looked at her. "Nor can I, but if it was those experiences that made O'Neill into the man we know today, then I am grateful it happened, however difficult it may have been. You have a saying on your world, 'That which does not kill you, only makes you stronger'. I would have to say that in O'Neill's case, it is true. " 

The others had no comeback for that. Daniel looked behind him at the door then turned and headed down the stairs. Sam followed him. Teal'c turned to Janet. "Will you also go downstairs Doctor Fraiser?" 

"Thanks Teal'c, but no. I think I'll stay here a while." 

Teal nodded. "As you wish. I will go with the others. Please call if you need me." 

"I will Teal'c. Thank you." Janet turned and re-entered the room. Jack hadn't moved, nor had she expected him to. She moved to his side and felt his forehead. The fever felt unchanged, but she would check with more accurate techniques in a while to be sure. For now, she just wanted to be near in case she was needed. 

Janet regarded the face near hers. Even in sleep, tension remained. She wondered what he dreamt of, now and every night. Did his mind always go back to that time, or did it give him a chance for peace? 

Janet had always known there was more to the colonel than he let on, as did the rest of the team. He was possessed of such a juxtaposition of attributes, ranging from tragedy and hope, to warrior and gentleman. He was smarter than he let people know, extremely sensitive to the needs of others and fiercely loyal. That was one of his most admirable qualities in her eyes. Still, he constantly chose to put forward a different facade, that of a hard nosed, somewhat uncaring, sarcastic man. She wondered at that and it occurred to her that it might be yet another legacy of his Iraqi experience. One more layer he had developed in order to protect himself. Lately, that part of him had been softening, but it remained to be seen what this latest incident would do to him. 

She couldn't help the maternal feelings he brought out in her. He looked so broken as he lay in the bed, a light sweat breaking out on his brow. She lightly patted his forehead with the damp cloth, curious when he began to mumble. His voice grew louder and he began to move, jerky motions impeded by uncooperative limbs. Janet placed her hand on his good shoulder, crooning soothing words designed to quiet the patient. 

Jack was unaware of Janet's efforts as he found himself caught in the midst of yet another nightmare. 

>   
> Jack's current roommate had taken a dislike to him. He didn't like rooming with a moral person who continued to hold out in the face of relentless questioning. He seemed to feel it made others look bad, himself included. So, in the guise of friendship, he made a point of finding out about Jack, only to relay the information in return for favours. When Jack was taken for the next round of interrogation, he was stunned to find out all his efforts had been undone. Still, he fought. He denied emphatically all information gained by the Iraqi's. As they fired facts about his life at him, he continued to respond in litany. Name, rank and serial number. His open defiance enraged the camp Commander. He ordered Jack to be taken to the compound, his efforts to stand up to authority were about to be made example of.
> 
> He was taken out into the courtyard and lashed to a wooden frame; standing upright, limbs splayed out. The rest of the company was brought forth to serve as witnesses. The Commander approached, swaggering as he looked at the defenceless man in front of him. He walked with a cane, purely for ornamentation. As he pressed a button on the hilt, a small, sharp knife shot out from the heel of the walking stick. He levelled the cane at Jack's chest, the blade caressing bruised flesh. Lazily he drew circles into the flesh. Not deep enough to seriously damage, but enough to bring a smile to his face as he watched the blood trickle more and more rapidly. 
> 
> Jack bit his tongue against the stinging cuts. He refused to give the Commander the satisfaction of seeing him react. 
> 
> Seeing that his game failed to elicit the desired response, the Commander changed tactics. He signalled his two burliest guards who eagerly approached, smiling expectantly. They had done this before and found the activity to be thoroughly gratifying. They quickly released Jack from his bindings, then each took an arm. They spread their own legs wide to gain a steady stance. Jack found himself with two massive hands on his back and arms outstretched. At the Commander's nod, the men began to pull. Jack struggled to choke back a scream as he felt both shoulders dislocate and muscles begin to tear. His head whirled and he fell gratefully into oblivion, never aware of the angry expression of the Commander who failed yet again to achieve his goal. 

Jack shuddered violently then woke, chest heaving painfully as he emerged from the nightmare. He looked wildly around the room before the familiar scene replaced the nightmarish one. It took him a moment to recognise the repetitive sound at his side as being Janet's soft voice, calling his name over and over. Finally he turned and met her worried gaze. He smiled at her in an attempt to show that he was all right. From there he turned his attention upwards where he spied the IV tree, complete with passengers. He traced the clear tubing down into his own arm then looked quizzically at the tired doctor. "What's this for?" 

"I started it a while ago, Colonel. Your hand developed an infection. Rather than taking you back to the SGC for treatment, I decided to do it here. I thought you'd feel more comfortable at home." Janet reached out and took his wrist, feeling for a pulse. 

He looked at her gratefully. He knew that he really couldn't face being on base at this point. Knowing that she had gone to the extra trouble for him touched him deeply. "Thank you for that." 

Janet smiled in response. "Not a problem, Colonel. I'm just glad that it seems to be working. Your temperature hasn't changed yet, but your pulse is a bit slower." She leaned over and helped him to sit, shoving pillows behind his back for support. She stared at him for a moment before continuing. As much as she didn't want to ask the next question, she knew she had to. "Do you want to tell me what that was about?" 

Jack deliberately misunderstood her. "What was what about?" 

Hurt showed clearly in Janet's clear brown eyes. After the events of the last day, she hoped he would respond with more honesty than that. 

Jack read her expression perfectly and felt bad for his attempted deception. "I'm sorry. I just... I really didn't want to go there right now." 

Janet nodded an acknowledgement, but declined to answer. Knowing the ball was in his court, Jack stepped up to the plate, albeit reluctantly. "I pissed off the camp Commander. My roommate ratted me out and I still wouldn't tell them squat. They decided to get even." 

Janet tried to suppress the shudder that ran up her spine. Now that Jack was talking again, she wasn't sure that she wanted to hear. Still, she sat quietly, waiting for him to continue. 

Jack looked at her, then down at his shoulder. "You know how much it hurts when you get a shoulder reduction?" Janet nodded, not sure she wanted to know where this was going. He looked back up at her, begging for her to understand. "It hurts a lot more when they get dislocated in slow motion." 

Janet gasped, unable to imagine the pain such an act would produce. "Both of them?" she whispered. This time it was Jack who nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as he looked away. "My God, Jack! How did you ever survive that place?" 

Jack shrugged lopsidedly. He had no answer to that. 

As Janet looked at his bruised and ravaged face, she realised that he was still surviving it. It hadn't ended, it simply switched forms. She flashed back to the time she had served in the Gulf. She had been assigned to a MASH unit and quickly learned that the _mobile_ was not an understatement. She spent many long days helping to set up and disassemble the hospital and an equal amount of time in practice, learning to reduce the time it took to put on her MOPP gear. The protective coverings were designed to protect from chemical warfare, a very real worry in this incursion. Janet could still feel the weight of the M17A1 mask that had hung around her neck alongside her stethoscope. The gas mask had become a part of her daily uniform. 

Triage took on a whole new meaning to her in that place. First treatment no longer went to the one with the worst cough or cracked wrist. It went to the one who had taken the most shrapnel from exploding land mines, or the worst bullet wound, or... the victims of torture. Those were always the worst. It didn't happen often, or at least not in her unit, that someone would be brought in like that, but when it did it was gut wrenching. Those were the times that Janet felt the most inadequate as a healer. Broken bodies she could treat, but broken minds were another story and simple hand holding could not undo deliberate brutality. Janet looked at Jack and wondered if anyone had held his hand. 

Jack looked up as he heard a throat deliberately clear and the bedroom door begin to creak. It opened to reveal three familiar faces, each looking rather ragged themselves. Jack forced the slightest of smiles. "Come on in. The party's moved in here." 

Jack's attempt at levity fell flat. Daniel had moved upstairs to check on Jack, his worry superseding his desire to get away from living another man's memories. Sam and Teal'c had followed behind, each thinking similar thoughts. Surprised at hearing voices, they moved to enter the room, until the intensity of the words caught them. Not meaning to eavesdrop, but unwilling to interrupt the conversation, the three waited at the door, hoping for a break in the conversation. All were appalled by what they had heard. As their eyes flicked to his damaged shoulder, they couldn't help but picture a new scenario for the injury. It was not a pleasant thought and one quickly pushed aside. 

Daniel sat gingerly on the foot of the bed, settling his weight carefully so as not to jar Jack's injuries. He pushed his glasses further up his nose as he considered his friend. Given everything he had heard, he wondered how much more there was to tell. With that thought, he found himself in the unenviable position of restarting the conversation. "So, what happened next? After 'the pit'?" 

Jack turned to him, his smile fading. Discomfort filled his eyes and he had to look away. The rescue and it's aftermath were in their own way harder than the prison. 

Sensing his hesitation, Daniel gave him a nudge. He lifted his right hand and rested it softly on Jack's ankle, leaving it there in an unspoken gesture of support. "You've come this far, Jack. You might as well finish it." He kept his voice soft, encouraging, all the while hating himself for what he was doing. 

Jack couldn't answer that. Emotions choked his throat as he thought about the hospital. Unable to look at his friends, he cast his eye downwards where he caught site of the needle resting in his vein, pumping fluids into his system. He felt himself falling once again into the depth of his memory. 

>   
>  Jack awoke after a week of a drug induced sleep. His brown eyes felt heavy after resting for so long. He blinked the fog from them and took in the sight of a ceiling, rather than the sky he was expecting. Shocked, he glanced about, expecting the familiar dirt walls. He found himself instead, a stark white room with too many lights and beds all lined up on either side of him. Most were empty.
> 
> He looked to his side and noticed the equipment that kept him company. Bags of fluids hung at his side, the tubes hanging from them snaking down to pierce his body in a multitude of places. Feeling an unfamiliar pressure on his face, he felt for the cause. An oxygen mask sat snugly over his nose and mouth, the air smelling different than he was used to. As he studied himself, at least the parts not covered by the crisp sheet and pristine bandages, he realised that he was clean, he didn't hurt much and he was no longer in a hole too deep to climb from. Further studies revealed two even more important facts. He wasn't thirsty, nor was he hungry. Jack sighed blissfully as he allowed his head to fall back onto the pillows that cradled his head. 
> 
> Jack tried to remember arriving at this place. He couldn't seem to pull that information from his brain. Unfortunately, the effort of trying jogged loose some memories he would rather forget. His rescue. 
> 
> Jack sat in the bottom of the pit, ankles crossed, knees parted and torso hunched over. He had adopted this position some time back and not moved from it. He couldn't seem to control his movements anymore. His limbs felt sluggish and weak. His mind drifted constantly, unable to focus for any length of time. His body no longer seemed to hurt and he dreamt constant, waking dreams. Beyond that, all he could feel was cold. A deep, pervasive chill that entered his bones and his mind. A chill that went beyond shivering, but acted more as a promise of what was to come. 
> 
> During his time in the prison, Jack had lost weight, muscle tone and ultimately his health. His time in the pit had taken those conditions to the extreme. The man that was finally pulled from that living grave was scarcely recognisable as the man who entered. His frame was emaciated, his mind in shock and his body so filthy that his injuries went unnoticed at first. Still, he fought his rescuers to the point that they had him sedated before trying to load him up into their transport vehicle. 
> 
> Jack was unaware of the journey out of Hell. He slept through the photographs that catalogued his injuries, he was oblivious to the efforts of the team sent to clean him up, and he ignored the girl sent to shave his head in an effort to rid him of the lice he had acquired. When he finally regained his senses, he was unaware of the expression he wore and the effect it had on those around him. Sometime during those four long months, Jack had gained the look of a cornered animal, something ready to strike out and attack rather than be attacked. His gaunt features only enhanced that feral look and the hospital staff were only too glad to follow orders and heavily sedate the man. 
> 
> In the weeks that followed, fluids and nutrients were pumped into the starving body. Blood and antibiotics attempted to restore some strength to the debilitated system. Hair began to cover the shaved head and daily baths helped to restore a sense of humanity to a man who had all but lost it. 
> 
> It wasn't until the third week in the hospital that any attempt was made at physical and mental rehabilitation. Jack was led through a series of daily exercises designed to restore lost muscle and strength; and to give purpose back to one who had lost it. Psychiatrists visited daily, offering nothing more than useless platitudes as they tried to document Jack's thoughts and experiences. He didn't co-operate with them any more than he had his tormentors. In Jack's mind they were one and the same. It wasn't until his second month in hospital that he was finally fit enough to move around independently. He wandered about as far as he was able. Going out into the grounds was his favourite pastime. It was early spring, the season of rebirth, and the flowers were just coming into bloom. Jack discovered a secret spot and spent many hours there, basking in the warmth of the sun and smelling the sweet fragrance of blossoms on the breeze. It was in this place, as he watched nature renewing itself, that he began to heal in body and in mind. It was here that he finally regained a sense of self. He then started to pick up the pieces of his life. He began to write letters home and to answer the doctors so that they might release him. He told them the basics, never more, and they didn't seem inclined to push it. 
> 
> Almost three months to the day after being rescued, Jack was released, a man forever changed, the scars permanently etched on his body and his mind. 

Jack was so caught up in his memory that he couldn't even say what he had spoken and what he simply recreated in his head. Thinking about it though, he realised it didn't matter. The fact was that he had to work through this, which he was. Whether the team heard it all didn't matter, except to his ego. 

Daniel looked intently at Jack, trying to gauge his state of mind. "So, um, how are you feeling?" 

Snapping back into the present, Jack gave serious consideration to the question. As he thought about it, he realised he felt numb. The anger he normally would have been feeling, both towards himself and his team wasn't there; despite his ordeal. It was not in him to share willingly. The fact that his innermost feelings and torments had been exposed against his wishes should have left him furious, but it didn't. It was as if all of his emotions had been stripped away, leaving him empty, bereft of feeling. His anger, hurt and pain seemed to have slipped into that empty place inside; that place reserved for him alone. He made a conscious effort and realised that he was able to once again put his memories back there as well. They were still present, but no longer clamouring for release and he had control once again. 

There was still much more he knew he wouldn't share, not now, not ever. It was a part of his existence and one night of soul baring would never reveal everything. Not only didn't he want to, he didn't think he should. His memories, both good and bad were a part of who and what he was. To reveal them all was to expose himself completely. Still, he had to admit that the load had lightened considerably. He had faced the past and triumphed. Jack looked at Daniel, trying to find the words to make his friend feel better, and flashed a tired smile. "Actually, I feel okay . Not so..." he searched for the right word, "... crowded. Things are settling down a little." 

Jack looked up hesitantly at his friends, studying their all too familiar faces. Instead of the pity and revulsion he was used to seeing in the past, he saw only caring and compassion. All four faces plainly showed the hurt they were feeling on behalf of a friend. Looking at them, he came to realise that even the worst scars could fade if given the chance. 

While feeling talked out, he realised there were still some words left to be said. "I don't know what to say here. I guess I should thank you. You really went to bat for me here... but I can't. This was private. It was my stuff and I didn't share for a reason." Seeing Daniel about to interrupt, he held up a finger and halted him. "Don't get me wrong. I appreciate your help, it's just that... that was a time best left forgotten." 

Jack fumbled around with the blanket for a moment. He wished that he could turn back the clock and take the last 24 hours back. Thinking about it, he revised that thought. He wished he could take the last mission back as well. Still, he better than most, knew the past was a done deal. Wishes couldn't change it. It had to be dealt with, learned from and moved past. This too would pass and become yet one more thing in a long list of times best forgotten. He looked up, knowing his team needed more from him. "I know I've kept stuff from you guys. I had my reasons, not the least of which that most of this is classified; don't tell Hammond or he'll have my head." That brought the expected results. "I can't say I'm happy about this _sharing_ session and I can't promise that I'll ever tell you everything, but I am glad that I have each of you around. I can't think of four people I'd rather have in my life. But for the record... I'd really rather not do this again." The last statement was delivered without the slightest trace of humour. 

Daniel spoke for the group, his expression equally serious. "We're with you there, Jack. I mean... I'm sorry you had to go through all that and I'm really sorry that we pushed you so hard. I still don't know how it is that you're here to tell the tale, but I sure am glad that you are." 

"As am I, O'Neill." 

"Thank you Teal'c, Daniel." Jack looked at his 2IC. "That goes for you too, Carter." He yawned hugely, the long night and his physical and mental recuperation catching up to him. The group took the hint and rose to leave. 

Daniel and Teal'c left the room quietly. Sam paused briefly at the door before leaving. "Good night, sir." 

"Good night, Carter." Jack turned to the remaining figure in the room. "So, what about you? You must be pretty tired, taking care of cranky patients and all?" 

Janet smiled as she checked the flow on his IV. "Oh, I've had worse." 

Jack's smile faded slightly. "Seriously Janet. I'll be fine. You look exhausted. Why don't you crash for a while? I'm not going anywhere." He yawned again. 

"I'll go in a while, Jack. Until then, I have a particularly stubborn patient I want to keep an eye on." Janet smiled as she watched Jack's eyes start to droop. 

"I should have a talk with this character. It sounds like he's been running you through the wringer." Jack's voice faded as he grew sleepier. 

"Talk to him tomorrow, Jack." She smiled as she heard his mumbled reply. 

"Tomorrow." His eyes flickered before he fell into a deep, healing sleep, the crisis dealt with for the time being. 

Janet noted with relief the lack of tension on Jack's face. She leaned over to lightly pat his hand, then settled herself in her chair. She had a patient to watch over. As she studied the sleeping man, she changed that thought. She had a friend to watch over. 

She knew that only time would tell if the storm had really blown over. As with most disasters, there would be aftershocks and lots of clean up. There may also be other storms to follow, but in the long run, she knew it was worth it. 

**~ End ~**

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>   
>  © June 12, 2000 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.  
> 

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**Author's Notes:** This isn't a pretty story, but one which I needed to get out of my system so I could move on to the next. Research was done for accuracy, but I extend my apologies to anyone who discovers or is offended by inaccurate facts. I did my best. Thanks goes to Chrisbod, Debbie, Yvonne, KD and Kathy. I rely on all of you and your 

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